'Roadrunner': The Chimera of Addiction
Revisiting CNN's Anthony Bourdain doc on the heels of a new biography
On October 11th, Simon & Schuester will publish āDown and Out in Paradise: The Life of Anthony Bourdainā, a new, unauthorized biography that would be un-notable but for its salacious selling point: personal exchanges, specifically texts, from Bourdain to his girlfriend (Asia Argento), ex-wife (Ottavia Busia-Bourdain) and others in the days prior to his suicide in June of 2018.
The New York Times ran a piece on it yesterday thatā¦ well, itās upsetting! Read only if youāre comfortable1, but the book excerpts highlighted only reinforce the sense that Bourdain was utterly desperate in the end; someone who just couldnāt see a way out. Friends and family of the guy are understandably peeved by this bookās publication, not just for what it says about them ā the exchanges with Argento are brutal ā but the ways it seems to chip at Bourdainās image, especially in his final years. Heās not just our favorite rough-around-the-edges cultural saint, connecting the world with perfect bon mots. Heās also an ex-junkie who lost his way, alienated his loved ones, then killed himself2.
Anyway, itās with all these very complicated feelings now resurfaced that I decided to revisit Morgan Nevilleās 2021 documentary, āRoadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdainā.
Even casual fans of Bourdain (I fall somewhere north of casual, south of super-fan) know the basics of his life, and āRoadrunnerā smartly elides them. Thereās no extended childhood biography, and very little from the pre-āKitchen Confidentialā era. Even that book ā and its explosive popularity ā serves mostly as a jump-off point to what, arguably, is the most significant part of Bourdainās epitaph: cultural ambassador. I feel silly calling him that, especially when the man in question would probably laugh it off, but thereās maybe no better way to describe him. He shed light on parts of the world, on cultures that even his erudite CNN-watching, New Yorker-subscribing audience (šš¼āāļø) were probably unfamiliar with. And he did it in a way that always radiated enthusiasm, curiosity, and connection ā three things in decreasing supply here in America.
But you know all that. And the documentary knows you know that. Hell, half its footage seems directly lifted from the shows and documentaries Bourdain himself produced! How much more is there to say about a guy whose last twenty years of life were documented as well as any Instagram influencer?
āRoadrunnerā delves into Bourdainās suicide ā how could it not? ā to mixed results. Hampering any sort of involved discussion is the fact that his friend Eric Ripert, who was there with him in France when it happened, politely declines to talk about it. And Neville went out of his way to exclude Argento from the doc, which IMO was a short-sighted, maybe even childish decision3. But then thereās probably not much more she could tell us about Bourdain than his friends are able to. Or the man himself, who wasnāt exactly cryptic talking about mortality, depression, or addiction.
Whether āRoadrunnerā states it outright or not, itās that last one ā addiction ā that serves as the backbone of the film, and a crucial part of Bourdainās story. I mean, he was a heroin addict who effectively justā¦quit, sometime before the āKitchen Confidentialā era. Heās written about it, talked about it; none of it is a secret. But whatās interesting, and you see it at any spin class, is the many forms addiction can take. Itās not just hard drugs or booze! Itās cooking; itās Brazilian jiu-jitsu; itās ROMANCE, in all its exciting possibility. Itās travel! The Bourdain exhumed by Neville is a Bourdain who never kicked his addiction ā he just found new ones. And I think you could argue, as the documentary does, that the same thing(s) that brought Bourdain international renown and made all of us feel so connected to this guyā¦may have also been to his physical and psychological detriment.
āRoadrunnerā never says āthis is what killed Tony.ā I doubt this new biography will, either (or anyway, I really hope it doesnāt). Itās an impossible question to answer, and also beside the point. What makes the documentary special ā and what made Anthony Bourdain special ā is the way it highlights the inextricable link between good and bad, hero and villain, life and death. One canāt exist without the other! We want to pretend that Bourdain kicked his habit, that addiction was part of his BACKstory, and not the one we started building with him, together, after he became a cultural figure. But those same impulses that lead you down this or that path, they rarely just disappear. Nope! They transform into other things, of variable charge: a brilliant memoir, a beef with Emeril Lagasse, a thoughtful travel-ogue, a doomed romance.
My guess is that, for a guy whose vices were almost inextricable from his virtues, Bourdain's story was always going to end the same way. That he killed himself? Itās somehow both cruel and predictable. I wish he were still around. I loved him ā I bet you did, too ā and feel his absence in a world that seems duller, more distant without him in it. Like his books and shows, āRoadrunnerā keeps him at least a little alive.
'Down and Out in Paradise' isn't out yet. And who knows -- it may prove, in the end4, to be a cynical cash grab with nothing to offer except a few shitty text messages. I sure hope not! But I also think we risk the very connection Bourdain stood for to sanitize parts of someoneās life for the sake of legacy. Biographies should be like that episode of 'No Reservations' where an Inuit tribe serves Bourdain a freshly-killed seal: you've gotta eat the whole thing.
Lifting Fogās first trigger warning!
ā¦Guys, they canāt all be about my many thoughts on this or that Hulu sitcom
Thank you Ryan Robinson for making me reconsider āchildishā here; a bit harsh
Iāve written āin the endā so many times this post should be sponsored by Linkin Park